


The Best Thing About Mornings

by dragonswithjetpacks



Series: Ferelith Moonshade - The Book Keeper [10]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Forgotten Realms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Loneliness, Yearning, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonswithjetpacks/pseuds/dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: Astarion was used to being alone. Stalking dark and empty rooms, sleeping in his own bed, waking without a worry but his own. There was never a time he considered otherwise. Not while sunlight was fatal. But now, things are different. He can not only wake with the sun... but possibly with someone next to him... as awful as it sounds.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Ferelith
Series: Ferelith Moonshade - The Book Keeper [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092497
Kudos: 30





	The Best Thing About Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to warn you, this is a bit out of character. I'm just assuming they're in a tavern somewhere in Baldur's Gate. And they've been together for awhile but haven't actually been together. This was super fluffy. And just how I was feeling today. For the sake of this, I'm just pretending Ferelith and Astarion can work their way to a happy ending. And sweet moments like this.

Ferelith read over them for what felt like the hundredth time. Even then, she felt the chilling touch of apprehension slither down her spine. The lines were raised on his back, prominent against his pale skin from deep and persistent carving. Though it was her eyes that crossed them, she was still familiar with the way they felt when her fingertips slid down his back. She could almost recall in detail the way each symbol was curved just by the touch. Her hands had caressed him enough times during the night that she was certain she could now sketch the scars in her sleep. Perhaps she would have written them somewhere in her little black book if it were not for the regret she felt when she looked at them. There were times she considered that she did not deserve to touch them, to be the gentle trace where cruel instruments were used to curse his skin. Becoming intertwined with him was one thing, but to try and touch him when he was vulnerable in front of her, as he was now, was something she would never dare to do. He would not allow it, or so she assumed. It was likely he would even become cross at the mere suggestion of it. No, the only time she was permitted to feel them was when she was beneath him, engulfed in his embrace with her hands stretched wide across his back so that she could outline every word beneath her fingers. And as many times as she had seen them, read them, and felt them, she could never gather enough courage to tell him what they said. Studying them all the while knowing how oblivious he remained only added to her guilt. They bent between his shoulder blades as he shifted, his arms flexing as he slid his pants over his legs.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, tucking the sheet around her exposed upper body.

She admired his profile as he glanced over his shoulder. He held it there, unable to look at her. Her eyes slid down the shape of his nose to his slightly parted lips. He looked away, feeling her examining his face again. Astarion felt like part of her research as she was always intent at staring into him. She had picked up on his ques, knew when he was lying, and often made him feel slightly uncomfortable with a single glance. As flatted as he was to be known it such a way, it was also problematic.

“Yes,” he replied softly.

“It’s still early,” she said, laying her head on the pillow.

He rose onto his feet, pulling the rest of his breeches to his waste, pondering the idea that she was right. They had not waited very long into the night to seek each other out. And though they had tried to be quiet, he was certain there was a loud rattle as he had slammed her against the door to her room only an hour ago. The others surely knew he was there. But the insatiable feeling in the pit of his stomach told him if he was going to make it through another long night, he was going to need the fuel to do so. He reached over to a stool where his shirt had been thrown- or rather, torn off.

“You can always stay,” she suggested when he did not respond.

This time, he was brave enough to look at her. But the sight made him weak. She was embracing the pillow, the sheet wrapped around her, almost glowing in the moonlight that came from the window. Some of her dark hair flowed over her shoulder. And though she was beckoning him for another enticing round of nightly activities, her eyes looked tired. Then again, she always looked tired. He wanted to crawl back into bed. To entangle himself in her again. He knew if he did, he would be tempted to feed from her. And fighting that urge was difficult enough as it was. Still, the way her pale yellow eyes sparked with mischief when he looked at her… it made him pause as he reached for the buttons on his shirt.

“A fine offer,” he smirked. “But you know I can’t.”

“I meant the night,” she replied, causing him to stop all together. “Once you’ve finished your hunt, you’re more than welcome to make a return. If you wanted.”

An invitation left open for him to decline. In most circumstances, he was quick to turn down such an offer. Astarion was never the sort to watch the sunrise with another. One, because seeing the sun would have meant his death. And two, he was usually gone before he was able to do so. There had been one exception, and only one that had occurred recently. That was the night of the party with the tiefling refugees. And it was with Ferelith. Conscious chalked it up to a long night of drinking and spoiling one another, their minds far too busy to acknowledge the time. Then again, he did recall dozing off on the forest floor with her at his arm. It was nothing like sharing a bed, but more like ending a long and restless night as one would after festivities much like the ones they partook. He had never imagined sharing his sleeping space with another. He had never wanted to. Thinking about it, about being so close to someone willingly for that amount of time without any sort of sexual desire, almost disgusted him.

“I’m afraid I’ve pushed myself too close to starvation, darling,” he shook his head, looking for his doublet to avoid making eye contact. “I’ll likely be out all night.”

The sly yet knowing smile trickled across her face and she rolled onto her back with a sigh. Astarion glanced up to catch her full face in the moonlight. It wasn’t the decline of her offer that bothered her. It was the lie. Still, he didn’t see enough reason to be truthful about not wanting to stay. And he didn’t want to leave her lingering on that thought. He tossed his doublet onto the bed, placing both his hands on the mattress to lean over her. He avoided her face, kissing the side of her neck down to her shoulder.

“Patience, darling,” he purred into her ear. “We’ll get to have more fun soon enough.”

Ferelith’s frustration was well hidden as she turned her head, kissing him above the ear in response to the tender brush of his lips. She was aware she did not have to be vocal to show her emotions with him any longer. He knew her just as well. Besides, her stubborn nature made her agree that showing him that he caused her grief would only make her appear soft; a sentiment she wanted to avoid. It was bad enough he knew how to make her crumble into the palm of his hands. He did not need to know that her want to crumble was growing stronger with each night they spent together.

She nudged him away and when he was pleased with her reaction, he reached over to collect his doublet.

“I’ll try not to be so aggressive next time,” she said as he finished dressing.

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright,” he made his way over to his boots. “I rather enjoy your ravenous hands. Perhaps waiting will be a better option?”

“You tease me any longer than you already have and I cannot promise your safety.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed in thought and eyed her carefully. “Idle threats fall on tempted ears. You best be careful.”

“You best be careful,” she grumbled in a mocking tone as she rolled her eyes.

He stomped each foot into his boots, shooting a warning glance but a teasing grin in her direction. She bit her bottom lip with her finger tracing her chin as she knew the way she often mocked him was enough to start a small fire. It made him just angry enough to please her.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said sternly.

“Have a good hunt, love,” she slid her hands beneath the pillow behind her head, watching him as he reached for the door.

Turning the handle and stepping through, something didn’t sit right leaving her with those words. He looked back, her upper body sprawled out with that sheepish smirk planted on her face. He shook his head, wondering why he let her get into him. Her eyes were burned into his memory, her laugh echoed in his ears, and her smile haunted his every move. She was but a bad habit that gave him joy in misbehaving. And when she turned to catch him leaving, he gave her a small nod.

“Sleep well.”

Ferelith watched him disappear behind the door. He knew she wasn’t going to sleep well. She never did. She would rest for a few hours, only to get back out of bed to study or read. Or sometimes write. She didn’t need sleep like the others. And even if she did, there were only dark dreams awaiting her.

“Foolish man,” she murmured under her breath, still feeling the aggravation from before but chuckling at his attempt to make up for it.

She looked out the window into the sky littered with clouds. One crawled across the moon, only half full. A few more days and she would have to call on her patron. He had been patient and quiet as of late. But there was usually a reason for his submissiveness. She would learn of his concern when the time came to summon him. In the meantime, she would have to keep working and preparing. Her long nights with Astarion had distracted her and she still had much to do. She tucked the sheet around her as if it were robe and drug her nightstand closer. It would have to act as a desk for the night. And it was going to be a long one.

* * *

Astarion was careful to re-enter the inn. The front door to the bar was far too loud and he knew opening it would alarm the keeper. He did not want to deal with questions or judgmental eyes. Plus, he was certain he had gotten enough blood on his collar to raise concern. And avoiding that conversation, in general, was going to be troublesome if it happened to occur. Instead, he found an open window near the kitchen. His feet were nimble, but as he climbed onto the table under the window, he stumbled as he nearly caught the end of a spatula beneath his foot. He managed to balance himself in the window sill, just at the edge, and hopped down onto the floor before he caused any abrupt sounds. Getting to his room would be much easier, so he figured.

He walked into the small dining hall where the front door remained tightly shut. It was dimly lit and empty, giving it an odd eerie feeling when you looked into it. Rooms that were usually seen full of bustling folk completely drained and dark had a way of doing that. Astarion was admittedly used to this side of things while stalking the night. It was almost peaceful being alone. He circled around to the railing of the staircase, taking one last look behind him to ensure no one was awake and watching. As he was certain he would not be noticed, he took off up the stairs, the wooden planks creaking beneath the tips of his toes. He winced but quickened his pace. The sooner he found his bed, the better.

Rounding the corner on the second floor, he found the hallway lined with doors to be completely darkened. The only light came from the far end of the hall where a small window allowed the moon to shine through. He walked slowly toward it, looking back and forth trying to remember which door was his. He was certain it must be the last one on the left. He could not recall for certain since he had not yet stepped into it. He had been… occupied upon their arrival. In remembering the incident at Ferelith’s door, he paused as he reached it. Her lantern was off. She must have been tired of waiting for him. More than likely, she had not waited at all.

There wasn’t a second thought as he crept past it, looking down and trying to focus on reaching his room. But then something tapped him in the back of his mind. Like an impatient finger would on his shoulder. It felt so honestly real that he turned, looking back to Ferelith’s door. He listened for a moment… but heard not a thing. No stirring. No voices. No footsteps. It was odd, he swore something was making him stop. The poking subsided and he pivoted quietly to continue. He made it to the door, opening it and finding another dark and empty room. He leaned against the frame. The bed was neatly made. Nothing had been touched. And though he wasn’t entirely tired, he knew he needed to rest. But he did not want to.

He looked back down the hall. Her lantern was still off. He thought about her in bed. If she was awake just staring into the dark. No, she definitely wouldn’t be waiting for him. Surely if she was not resting, she was working. Perhaps she would have some ritual to prepare for. Or perhaps she had eaten something delightful and was relaxing with the night and some wine. She did not need a lantern for that. His eyes fell back onto his bed. His bed. This was his room. And his bed. Then why did it not feel like his at all? Why did he feel more compelled, more interested in her room than the peace and quiet he would have in his own? And why was that finger coming back to tap him? As if it were some kind of reminder. What did he have that was so important that just when he had forgotten it, it was there once again to remind him?

Ah… yes… loneliness.

There was a heavy sigh that came from his mouth as he became reacquainted with an old friend. And it was all her fault. She should have never placed the idea in his head that there was even a slight possibility of sharing a bed. Not just for entertaining purposes. But for the simple fact of being there next to him. It was not even an outright suggestion. It was the subtle mention that planted the seed. And now it had grown, branching into his thoughts. And poking him persistently. With the budding idea of feeling lonely… the curiosity of waking up with her… the urge to bed her in the morning. It was all there, bursting like early morning spring.

Ferelith had won. And though he closed his door like it was a heavy burden, he did not feel entirely defeated. For when he went to her door and opened it to see the back of her, something lifted from his shoulders. He quietly shut the door behind him. Slid his boots from his feet, unbuttoned his doublet, and began to unfasten his breeches. The sound of his clothes hitting the floor made her stir, but she had not turned around. He heard her sigh in her sleep, bringing a coy smile to his lips. He crawled into bed behind her, the warmth of her skin exciting him. She had not put anything on after he left. She felt the embrace of him at her waist, pulling her close to his chest and she subconsciously grabbed his arm. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the side of her face and she smiled as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“Back early?” her voice was raspy as she slowly regained herself.

“I am,” he whispered. “There was a rather large pig in the market. Someone is going to be very upset to find it dead in the morning.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Shame.”

“We can watch their despair later. It looks like there was a small bakery nearby.”

“I can get some bread,” she smiled.

“My thoughts exactly,” he kissed her shoulder affectionately. “Now, hush. I would like to get some sleep.”

Ferelith chuckled, keeping her retort to herself. She would not ask him what brought him to her that night. It was unexpected, but she would let his own reasons settle with himself. There was no doubt he was unsure why he was there. And that was alright with her. In truth, he knew the reason why he was there. And he held it tightly against him as he told those thoughts to quiet down as well. There may have been a few things he had lied about. But his need for rest was not one of them.

* * *

The sun had cracked just over the edge of the windowsill, bringing the room into a reddish hue. He opened his eyes, as he was still unaccustomed to feeling the sunrise at dawn. He blinked, stretching his arms out as he lay on his back. But stopped as he felt a hand on his chest. Ferelith was still next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. And there was nothing disgusting about it at all. Not like he imagined. Just her. Pressed against him. He lifted his arm gently in an attempt not to wake her. But she was used to waking at the rising sun as well, and the moment her head left his chest, she strained to open her eyes as she rolled onto her back. Astarion propped himself up on his elbows with his head against the wall, looking down to watch her awaken. She blinked several times, looking down at the foot of the bed. Something seemed strange to her as she realized he had not left like she had expected him to. She looked up at him, somewhat in disbelief. And he gave a half-shrug as if he knew. It had been too long for either of them to remember what it was like waking to someone else.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked to fill the silence.

“I did,” she replied. “And you?”

Astarion thought on it for a moment, worried about how he might respond. Surprisingly enough, he had slept fairly well. But he struggled with that fact because he had imagined he would not have been able to sleep at all. She stared as he said nothing. He looked at her, diverting his gaze away for a few seconds, then looked back. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He nodded slightly with another shrug. Ferelith, who did not seem to understand his hesitance but did not care, became utterly amused at his confusion. The grin was slow to start but her cheeks tightened with how wide it had grown. Astarion struggled to hold back his own amusement and together, they began to laugh at how foolish they seemed; two adults who hadn’t the slightest idea of how to handle the embarrassment of the situation.

“Let’s just get dressed to start,” she said, sitting up and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s not,” he leaned over her, forcing her back into the bed. 

“We’ll be late,” she looked up at him, matching his devious grin.

“I… do not care…”

After all, what was the point of waking up next to her if he could not have her the moment he woke? Perhaps… he had been wrong about sleeping next to someone. Or perhaps he had finally met someone he was willing to tolerate enough to share a bed with. Either way, the feeling of her wrapped around him made his thoughts consider that the sunrise was no longer the best thing about his mornings.


End file.
